In Mirkwood
by Scribe-of-Arda
Summary: A disastrous patrol leaves Legolas lying in the mud amongst corpses of friend and foe alike. Thranduil has no idea of his son's peril, who is only clinging to life. And even if he survives, sometimes not all wounds are physical. Can all scars be healed?
1. Chapter 1

In Mirkwood

_This is the prequel to another story that is not yet published, In Imladris. In that story, Legolas arrives at Imladris…well, I can't really say, as it would ruin the suspense in this story. I just decided to write it down because I was re-reading the story In Imladris, and thought I could expand on what happened a bit. If you are reading this, and In Imladris has been published, you do not have to read In Imladris to understand this story, or read this story to understand In Imladris, but reading In Imladris first may take away some of the suspense in this story. Then again, if you don't like cliffhangers…. *evil laugh*._

_This story is set about 250 years before the War of the Ring. In my head, this makes Legolas just over 900 at the time. Definitely angsty, and ends with a cliffhanger if you don't read In Imladris as well. And in my LOTR universe, Galion (Thranduil's butler at the time of the Hobbit) was a captain in Thranduil's army for a long time before he 'retired' and became Thranduil's butler. In all probability, due to living in Mirkwood he probably would have served in the army at some time, but his personality is probably a bit AU.  
_

_This is probably not going to be as angsty as my previos fanfic, Leading into Battle (which surprised me, actually). This is just something I felt like writing, mainly as a prequel to another story that I shall publish afterwards._

_Disclaimer: *fling myself down on floor and cries* I don't own any of it…_

0-o-0-o-0

_Light thinks it travels faster than anything but it is wrong._

_No matter how fast light travels, it finds the darkness_

_has always got there first, and is waiting for it._

_-Terry Pratchett-_

0-o-0-o-0

The forest was silent, the trees holding their breaths. There was no breeze to stir the dark leaves, no fresh air beneath the boughs. It was stifling.

Legolas adjusted his weight, shifting slightly to the side to allow a better view through the twisted branches. He glanced behind him, his bow dangling from his hand. Behind him was arrayed his patrol, fifteen of Mirkwood's warriors. Like him, their bows were in their hands, though they were more relaxed than if they were in immediate danger. Fifteen pairs of dark eyes watched the forest.

Legolas signalled for the patrol to move forwards and they began their silent journey through the forest. Part of Legolas was uneasy, had always been uneasy, at the way that those under his command followed him unflinchingly. Part of him worried that with one wrong decision from him, their lives could be forfeited. Even though he had been a captain in his father's army for hundreds of years, commanding the troops, these thoughts still worried him. Yet he felt he could not burden anyone, least of all his father. Thranduil was becoming more and more worried as the darkness crept north from Dol Guldur, and Legolas did not want to increase the strain on the King. No, he would simply do the best he could and hope that it was enough.

The darkness from Dol Guldur was the main reason he was leading this patrol. Thranduil had asked him to check the state of the woods south of the elf path, to see how far the shadow was spreading. If they could find out how far north the spiders were moving as well, it would be even better. But even their presence in the south would not do much. Legolas sighed quietly. Sometimes he didn't know what to do. All he knew was how to fight, how to protect his home. He wondered whether it was enough.

He hardly concentrated as the patrol wove their ways through the trees. They had yet to cross the elf path, though he knew it was close by. The forest was steadily getting darker, but some sunlight still filtered through the thick canopy. Legolas knew that there was no distinct line where their realm ended and the shadow began, but this part of the forest had been the same for many hundreds of years, and as far as he could tell, it was no darker.

Legolas suddenly slowed down, his patrol coming to a stop behind him. He crouched in the branches, eyes narrowed. Something was wrong. His lieutenant came up beside him. "_Hir-nin_" he whispered. "What is it?"

"Can you not feel it?" Legolas murmured. "Something is wrong. The very air is thick. It takes my breath."

The lieutenant nodded. "Do you have any idea what it is?"

Legolas shook his head. "I don't, but we are still north of the elf path. It is not likely to be something serious. We will move on, in a tighter formation, just in case. I want weapons at the ready."

The lieutenant nodded and spread the command around the rest of the patrol. Soon they moved forwards once more, but this time their bows were taught, arrows in their hands. Legolas led once more, his silver eyes relentlessly scanning the forest. The feeling of unease was still with him, but he could not turn back to the palace.

After a while, the lieutenant moved forwards to Legolas' side again. "Sire?" he murmured. "Is there anything…?"

Legolas shook his head slowly. "I don't think so" he muttered back. "There is still some unease about the forest, but it may just be the encroaching darkness." He glanced back at the patrol. "Stand at ease" he said softly. "I don't think there is any need for…"

Legolas trailed off. New sounds now filtered through the forest. Sounds he had not heard before, but they were unmistakeable. It was the sound of orcs. "So far north!" he muttered to himself.

He stayed motionless for a minute longer, trying to pinpoint the source of the noise. Eventually he turned to the patrol. "There aren't too many" he murmured. "We should be able to take them."

The patrol, their faces grim, nodded together. Legolas turned and scanned the surrounding trees. "Set up a loose line in front of them. Use arrows until there is a risk of them getting through, then drop down to the forest floor." The orcs were too far north already. Legolas would not let them get any further. He would not let them invade his realm.

"Understood?" he asked quietly. The patrol already had their bows at the ready, arrows nocked. Legolas nodded and turned, moving forwards towards the orcs.

0-o-0-o-0

Legolas glanced to either side. Beside him sat his lieutenant, his face grim. The rest of the patrol was strung out in the trees, waiting. Ahead of them they could hear the orcs. The foul beasts were moving stealthily for orcs, probably as they were so far north. There was less darkness for them to hide in.

Legolas waited patiently, not moving a muscle. The noise of the orcs became louder, the Black Speech grating on the elves' ears. Eventually there were hazy movements in the trees, before one of the orcs stepped forwards.

Legolas held up his hand, signalling for the patrol to ready. Immediately fifteen arrows were on bows and were pointed at the orcs as they came through the trees. The last orc stepped into view and the group of beasts made to move forwards. That was when the first one fell with an arrow in its throat.

With a foul cry the orcs ran forwards, seeking for their enemy. Arrow after arrow fell from the trees, and orcs fell with them. But the remaining orcs, over twenty, kept charging forwards, until they had nearly passed the line of Legolas' patrol.

Legolas shouldered his bow and dropped from the trees. His knives were in his hands before he hit the ground, and as the rest of the patrol dropped behind him, he flicked his wrists, slashing the throat of a surprised orc.

The rest of the orcs let out a roar at the sight of their enemy, and they surged forwards, scimitars raised in bloodlust. Legolas raised his knives. And so it began.

It had always been like this when fighting. He never felt anything. The body danced, delivering death with sharp knives, but the mind seemed to sit back. He never thought much, not when he was in the midst of battle, in harmony with his weapons. It was as if his soul was somewhere else, watching the gruesome battle.

It was only when the battle was over, when there was silence once more instead of screams, it was only then that he really saw everything once more. When the dance stilled and the battle ended, that was when his soul crept back in, whispering words of despair. It was then that Legolas questioned what it was he did. It was then that the numbness crept back in, when the weariness overtook him once more. When he saw the blood, the pain and the grief, it was then that he felt his spirit flicker and fade a little more.

But now, no such thoughts entered his head, for he was in the midst of battle, perfectly balanced. Legolas plunged his knives into the chest of another orc, which fell dead in front of him. He did not even notice the small cuts covering him; it took a serious injury to throw him off balance.

But now a different sound cut into his concentration, and Legolas paused momentarily. Around him his patrol fought fiercely, but already one elf had been pulled to the edge of the battle by another. He now lay on the floor, eyes closed. From his quick glance, Legolas could not tell if he was breathing.

Legolas spun around as the sound of pounding feet reached his ears again. His eyes widened as the pounding intensified.

"Pull back!" cried out Legolas, taking a few steps back as the rest of the patrol that was still standing came up behind him. In front of them the remaining orcs paused and everyone under the trees, elves and orcs, could hear the pounding of many feet. The orcs bellowed in joy, and more cries echoed in reply. Legolas raised his knives as many more orcs burst from the trees and charged.

Legolas tried in vain to keep the patrol together, but the orcs were too many. As one they charged, and though many fell to the bright knives and swords of the elves, many more took their places. Legolas pushed forwards again, his knives whirling in his hands, and for a moment they fell back. But the moment was too brief, and then the orcs overwhelmed them once more.

Legolas heard a brief cry and spun around in time to slash the neck of the orc that had gotten behind him. He wasn't fast enough, however, to help the elf that crumpled to the ground, blood pouring from a deep wound in his side. Around him the rest of the patrol was falling, staining the forest floor.

A sudden cry came from his lieutenant, who briefly locked eyes with Legolas. He wasn't in direct danger though. Legolas suddenly realised his eyes weren't locked on him, but on something directly behind him.

Legolas spun, but already he was too slow. He felt the cold sharp pain as an orc's blade sliced into his side and he twisted, pulling away from it. Bright red blood spilled down his side as Legolas impaled the orc with a knife. For a moment pain blinded him, but another cry from behind him made him raise his weapons once more as the orcs pushed forwards. His patrol was dying around him.

Ten were now lying on the ground, either dead or wounded. Their blood soaked into the soft ground. Legolas looked around frantically. They were being overwhelmed. They were all going to die.

"Pull back!" he cried out as he spun, his knives flashing. More orcs fell dead, but there were too many, too many to turn and run. He was unbalanced, his thoughts crowding his head. He had failed. He had fought as hard as he could for his father and his home, but none of it had made any difference. None of it had mattered.

_To Be Continued_

_Duh Duh Duh! Next chapter will be up tomorrow..._


	2. Chapter 2

In Mirkwood- Chapter 2

_Next chapter is here! Thank you to all those who have read and reviewed this so far._

_Disclaimer: see chapter 1_

"Retreat!"

His desperate cry rang out across the clearing, but there was no chance for the elves anymore.

"Run!"

Another of the patrol fell, a knife impaled in his chest. His gaze caught Legolas' and the Prince froze. The elf's eyes were wide, pleading desperately for the pain to stop as he watched Legolas. A shudder ran through him and something in his eyes vanished, yet the pleading, begging gaze remained frozen on his face.

Legolas stumbled back, only to hear the whoosh of a scimitar behind him. He turned and brought his blade up, parrying the blow at the last moment. The orc's grinning face moved in closer to him, leering at Legolas, whose arm trembled with the strain of holding up the scimitar. Legolas' knife slipped slightly and the orc leant forwards, bearing all his weight on the thin blade. Legolas' eyes widened.

He did not see the orc come behind him, not until he felt the cold sharp pain across his back. Managing to hold back a scream Legolas dropped down, the orc in front of him falling forwards. Luckily, it fell right onto the orc behind him and both crashed to the ground, their knives impaling each other.

Normally Legolas would have laughed at this, but he couldn't. Waves of pain rocked his body as blood soaked his tunic. Around him there were less orcs, but it was still too many. He looked around, desperate to see any of his patrol alive. Some of them had to be alive.

His lieutenant was behind him, back to back with another elf. Both were bleeding heavily. Legolas turned to try and help them, but dizziness assaulted him and he swayed on his feet. He stumbled towards them, his blades drawn. As he watched, one of them fell forwards, hitting the ground heavily. An orc leapt in. The elf didn't move again.

Legolas managed to reach his lieutenant and drew himself up. Without saying a word, he turned and they stood back to back, one last desperate attempt. Both of them knew what was coming, and Legolas briefly grasped the other elf's arm. He felt his lieutenant reach for him, and the firm grasp of his hand. Then the touch was gone and the orcs moved in.

He didn't know how long they fought like this, back to back, their final stand against the onslaught of orcs. He only knew that no matter how many orcs fell to their blades, more and more came. There was no end to the darkness.

A sudden cry came from behind him and a weight fell back against Legolas, who staggered forwards. The lieutenant fell to the ground beside Legolas, his eyes blinking feverishly. A large red stain was spreading across his chest. "Le…Legolas" he rasped, his eyes wide and panicked. "_Saes_…" He shuddered once and then was still..

"No… No. No!"

Legolas screamed, the sound tearing out of him and ringing through the forest. He climbed back onto his feet. Blood spilt from his side, but his rage gave him wings and he was borne up, his weapons raised. This time, he didn't wait for the orcs to come to him. He charged, leaving behind the body of his lieutenant; his friend.

He didn't care anymore that his blood was spilling onto the forest floor. He didn't care that orcs blades cut into him. Many of the orcs' bodies littered the floor, but he didn't notice. His vision narrowed to just see the orc in front of him, until that orc fell and another came to take its place.

But he never forgot the bodies of the elves lying behind him, those he had failed. They fuelled his rage, willing his weary, bloody arms to rise again and again in the gruesome dance. Orc after orc fell to his blades.

And then suddenly no more orcs came forwards to meet him. Legolas stopped, circling, trying to look through the red haze that covered his eyes. Eventually it cleared.

There were no more orcs alive for him to bring down. Their bodies were strewn around the forest, black blood coating everything. But then Legolas saw them.

The bodies of his patrol, the bodies of the elves that had fallen lay with the orcs' corpses. They were all dead. Bright red blood mixed with black. Legolas, stumbling forwards, saw again the body of his lieutenant, his friend, covered in crimson. His face was frozen in death, eyes blank.

With this sight, Legolas fell to his knees, the strength leaving him. He wanted to be sick. Everywhere he looked, he saw blood. Even when he closed his eyes, he saw their open, staring gazes. He heard their cries.

He wanted to scream his anguish to the sky. But he couldn't. Blood was dripping from him onto the floor, adding to the gruesome mixture. Legolas watched as it spread across his tunic. The pain suddenly made itself known and he gasped, his breaths coming short and sharp as he collapsed onto his side. His hands tried to find the wounds, desperately trying to hold back the flow of blood.

He shook where he lay, in the blood and the dirt. His eyes gazed at the carnage, but he had not the strength to move them. Did he want death? He didn't think it mattered, for he knew if he was not found, he would die anyway. Just like his patrol. Just like the countless elves that had already fallen to the shadow. He would join their ranks in the Halls of Mandos, never living to see these days renewed.

He didn't have hope for that anyway. His breaths were rasping in his throat and he knew unconsciousness was only moments away. His eyes flickered.

His last thoughts were of his father. He hoped Thranduil didn't find him, that he didn't see his body. He didn't want his father's last memories of him to be this. Legolas would have smiled, if he had the strength. His father would keep going; he had to. Mirkwood had to stand against the darkness. The others had to have hope, even if it had left him to his death in the blood and the dirt.

The darkness crept in and took him, and his eyes fell shut.

It started to rain. The patter of water on leaves, far above the blood, was the only sound in the forest.

0-o-0-o-0

Thranduil looked up from his desk as a soft knock came at his door. "Come in." The door opened and he smiled. "Galion. I trust you got the message?"

Galion grinned wryly. "Of course I did. Why else would I be knocking on your study door?"

Thranduil's smile grew. "I get your point, Galion. Come in, sit."

Galion, one of the captains of the army, sat down opposite Thranduil. "What is it you want, Sire?"

Thranduil sighed, shuffling papers on his desk, before looking up at his captain. Galion was not only his captain- he was a valued advisor and the closest thing Thranduil had in this kingdom to a friend.

"How many elves are in the stronghold right now? Ones on duty, I mean."

Galion frowned, doing a quick tally in his head. "Over a hundred are on some sort of duty in or around the palace, Sire. Why?"

Thranduil pushed a piece of paper towards him, which Galion took and read. Thranduil rubbed his eyes with his hand. "This is a report I got late yesterday. More spiders have been spotted around the elf path in the west. I want you to take out about twenty elves and head southwest, the same way that Legolas went yesterday. If you set off this morning you should catch up with him; he was travelling slowly and only left yesterday noon."

Galion nodded as Thranduil continued. "Join your patrol with his and sweep further south and west- Legolas was only checking on the state of the woods south of the elf path. Together I want you to find more information on the spiders. I need to know how far north they are moving."

Thranduil sighed, running his hand through his hair. His crown was lying on the desk amid a pile of papers. "I need this information, Galion. We need to know what we are up against right now-"

Galion cut him off with a groan. "Thranduil, you are being dispirited again. Stop it."

Thranduil laughed. "Alright then. Take the elves south; try to be back in a week. I will see you and Legolas then."

Galion nodded. "We will be back soon" he said. "And when you are back, I am going to force you to take a day off. I will make Legolas drag you outside so you can spend the day with him. Between your duties and his back to back patrols, you don't spend enough time together."

Thranduil smiled. "I know. But at least I have you to set me straight, Galion."

"Ai, well, I am leaving now." Galion stood up. "So you are going to have to manage by yourself for a week." He bowed and turned to leave.

"May the grace of the Valar go with you, Galion" called Thranduil as Galion left.

Galion paused and turned back with a smile. "And with you, Sire."

0-o-0-o-0

The elves were assembled, weapons cleaned and ready for use, supplies packed. Galion looked over the elves as they moved away from the palace, noting with please the small pouches that hung at everyone's belts. They were battlefield medical kits, containing a small supply of herbs that were vital in battle, as well as thread and needles. A few elves carried rolls of bandages, and every elf was trained in suturing wounds and applying herbs. Thranduil had instigated this a long time ago, and Galion was sure it had saved many lives over the years.

They moved through the forest swiftly, using the trees rather than the ground. Galion pushed the elves on, wanting to catch up with Legolas by the end of the day. He knew Legolas was going slowly, scouting the area carefully and with luck, he hadn't gotten too far past the elf path yet.

Galion glanced up at the sky, or what he could see of it through the trees. The sun was not yet at its peak, though they had been moving for a few hours. They were making good time.

It was mid-afternoon when they began to get close to the elf path. Galion called for the patrol to stop and they rested in the trees, sipping from waterskins. Galion pulled out a square of lembas and munched on a bit of it, his dark eyes scanning the trees ahead.

After a few moments they continued. Nimbly jumping from branch to branch they made their way through the darkening forest. The boughs beneath them were twisted and dark, but they were steady underneath the feet of the wood-elves.

As Galion leapt through the trees, a sudden feeling of unease crept over him. He slowed, the patrol coming up behind up. Finally coming to a halt in the trees, he looked around. Nothing seemed different. And yet…

It took him a while to work out what was wrong, but when he did, he was just more confused. He turned back to the patrol. "The trees are quiet" he murmured. "Something is wrong."

The other elves looked about, only noticing the silence now. Galion dropped down to the floor, followed by the rest of the elves. He knew that it wasn't very helpful, leaving the trees, but he didn't want to stay in their silent boughs anymore. It was strangely unnerving.

They crept forwards, and with every step Galion became even more worried. The trees were silent, yes, but still there were whispers in the air. They spoke of death. It was hardly comforting.

A little while later Galion held up his hand and they stopped. Galion turned around, his face pale and drawn. "Can you smell that?" he asked. The metallic tang in the air was unmistakeable.

The patrol nodded. "It is blood" murmured one of them. "Orc blood, definitely."

Galion nodded. "Weapons drawn" he said. "Stick together. All is silent right now, but we have no idea what we might find through the trees."

He was right. They had no idea of what they were going to find.


	3. Chapter 3

In Mirkwood- Chapter 3

_Hey there! Next chapter like I promised, though our poor Leggy isn't out of the woods yet (no pun intended).  
_

_Disclaimer: see Chapter 1_

Galion stepped through the trees cautiously, an arrow fitted to his bow. The stench of blood was strong, and here the trees were not as silent, instead whispering in distress. Galion gulped in trepidation.

Now the elves began to see splatters of blood on the forest floor, but the forest was too thick and too dark to see further into it. Galion stooped. "_Yrch_" he said softly. He traced another stain, bright red this time. "Elven blood" he murmured. He gasped in realisation. "Legolas' patrol."

Galion stood up. "Quickly, we need to find out what has happened." He turned and began to run through the trees, his jaw clenched. Something had gone terribly wrong.

Finally, he burst out through the trees into a small clearing, his patrol behind him. He gazed in horror at the carnage in front of him. Beside him, one of the other elves dropped to the ground, retching quietly. Galion didn't blame him. He wanted to be sick himself- it was only the reminder of his duty that kept him upright.

In front of them, the forest was wet with blood. Orc corpses littered the forest floor, but with them lay pale figures mingled with the black. Galion, mustering his courage, stepped forwards onto the battlefield. Or rather, the site of a massacre. He crouched next to one elf and gently rolled him over. The elf's eyes were wide open. His torso was covered in blood.

Galion sighed. He reached out and closed the elf's eyes, before standing up and turning to his patrol.

Most of the elves he had with him were standing there, transfixed in horror. A few were crouched on the ground, retching. Nothing could ever prepare someone for a sight like this.

"This was Legolas' patrol" said Galion, horror in his voice. It broke the silence and the elves in front of him blinked, as if waking from a nightmare. The ones on the floor clambered to their feet and watched Galion.

Galion avoided looking at the ground. "We need to find Prince Legolas. Spread out, check every elf, though I doubt…" He trailed off, looking around at the clearing, at the blood mingling with the mud and dirt. It had rained last night, the mud thick under their feet, grabbing at the bodies littering the ground.

The elves nodded and spread out around the clearing. As Galion moved around, he could hear the faint cries of grief as they came across someone who had been their friend. He shook his head. He had to find Legolas.

There! Galion spotted a flash of golden hair in amongst the black corpses. He ran over, passing an elf who was crouched on the ground next to a lifeless body. Galion glimpsed Legolas' lieutenant as he ran past. He was caked in blood and mud. The member of the patrol crouched next to the body reached out and closed his eyes. But Galion didn't see any of this. His eyes were fixed on Legolas.

He fell to his knees beside the body of his Prince. Legolas' face was white; he was lying in a pool of blood. His once vibrant hair was red and matted, his hands clamped over his torso and shoulder, as if he had tried to stop the bleeding before passing out. Orc corpses were littered around him and his knives were by his side, covered in black blood. Galion felt a wave of grief wash over him. He had known Legolas since the Prince had been born. How was he going to tell Thranduil?

Galion did not think it necessary, but nevertheless he pressed two fingers under Legolas' jaw, just in case. A gasp of surprise left his lips and he rocked backwards, narrowly avoiding falling in the blood under his feet.

A weak pulse beat under his fingers. It was thready and erratic, but it was there.

0-o-0-o-0

Galion looked up. "Help!" he called. "I need help over here!"

Within seconds five of the patrol were at his side, crouched in the mud. One of them reached out hesitantly towards Legolas. "The Prince" he murmured, smoothing back limp strands of hair from his face. "Is he…?"

"Aye, he is alive" said Galion. "But we must hurry. He will not last long."

The elves understood exactly what they had to do. Taking their cloaks they laid them on the ground and then together, very carefully, Galion and the five elves moved Legolas onto the cloaks, away from the cold mud.

"Quickly" said Galion. "I need athelas." He took a knife and cut away Legolas' tunic, discarding the soaked pieces of fabric. The wounds, jagged tears in his pale skin, were revealed. One elf, who was young by elven standards, turned away, his hand clamped over his mouth. He stayed like that for a few seconds before gaining control and turning back.

"I'm sorry" he murmured.

"Don't be" said Galion briskly as he gently examined the wounds. Legolas did not respond to any of his touches, which only served to worry Galion more. He looked up at the young elf.

"No-one ever gets used to this" he said softly. "But you have to keep it back. Right now your Prince needs your help."

The elf nodded. Though pale, his face was determined and he brought forth the little drawstring bag on his belt, producing the athelas from inside. He crushed it and the wholesome smell filled the air.

Galion looked at the other elves around him. Behind them the rest of the patrol were moving around, carefully lifting the bodies of their fallen comrades and moving them away from the orcs.

"Did anyone else survive?" he asked softly.

One of the elves crouched beside him shook his head, his eyes closed in grief. Galion sighed, turning back to Legolas. Taking the waterskin from his belt, he tried to clean the wounds of the worst of the mud and dirt.

He looked up. "We need to build a stretcher" he murmured. "Get Legolas back to the palace. And bring back the bodies of the fallen, and burn the orc corpses."

"We can see to that" said one of the elves, his voice tight with grief. "We will start on the stretcher first. It will be needed soon."

Galion gently grasped the young elf by the arm as he made to stand up. "Stay with me" he said softly. "I will need your help."

The elf nodded, pushing his hair back from his face. He took out his own waterskin and began to clean the rest of the wounds, timidly at first, as if he was scared of hurting the Prince. When he realised that Legolas could not feel anything he began to really clean away the mud and dirt, though his hands were still gentle.

Galion took the athelas and began to pack it into the wounds, hoping to slow down infection. Legolas was white from shock and blood loss, and they could not risk him losing more blood, so Galion unwrapped his sterile needle and thread and began to sew up the wounds. He did it swiftly, for he knew it was only temporary for the journey home. Besides, he was beginning to panic slightly, though on the outside he stayed calm. Legolas was deathly pale and he hadn't moved at all. If it weren't for the weak pulse and the sluggish flow of blood from his wounds, Galion wasn't sure he would be able to tell he was alive.

He finished the wounds that he could reach and swiftly moved around to the other side of Legolas. The young elf shifted to Legolas' head, pulling the dirty blond hair from his face. Galion worked swiftly until all of the wounds on his front were stitched together. He frowned.

"Is that all?" he murmured. His gaze fell on the cloaks underneath Legolas. Gently reaching one hand underneath Legolas' back, his frown deepened. He pulled his hand away. It was covered in red blood.

Galion sucked in a sharp breath. "Quickly, we need to look at his back." Together he and the young elf rolled Legolas over, the young elf supporting him so his other wounds did not press on the ground. Galion groaned. A long gash ran down Legolas' back, slowly dripping blood. It was covered in mud.

"Pass me the waterskin" he said quickly, taking it from the elf's hand as he supported Legolas with the other. Galion uncorked the skin and poured it over Legolas' back, using an edge of his tunic to wipe away as much of the mud as possible. Crushing the last of the athelas he packed it into the length of the wound, before stitching it shut. It was the best he could do.

Galion moved back slightly, helping the young elf to lower Legolas back onto the cloaks. "Roll him onto his side" he said. "It will be the best way to keep pressure off of his wounds."

The young elf nodded and together they laid Legolas as best as they could on the cloaks spread over the mud. Galion took two rolls of bandages out of his pack. Passing one to the other elf, they swiftly bandaged the wounds.

"Will he be alright?" the young elf asked, his face pale as he looked at his Prince.

Galion sighed. "Honestly, I don't know" he murmured, feeling under Legolas' chin again for a pulse. It was there, but still very weak and thready. Galion had to concentrate to see Legolas breathing at all. "If we manage to get back to the stronghold quickly, he may make it, but…" He left the other option hanging in the air. It didn't need saying.

The young elf nodded determinedly. "I will go see what help I can offer the others" he said, rising slowly to his feet. He made his way across the clearing, where another elf was struggling to lift one of the bodies.

Galion, seated beside Legolas with one hand on his chest, looked around the forest with empty eyes. His patrol had worked quickly- most of the elves had been moved away from the carnage and were lying together at the edge of the clearing. A few worked there with scraps of fabric and any spare water to clean the blood from their faces. The rest of the elves were either piling the bodies of the orcs or tying together branches to make simple stretchers. One of them was being finished off. It was better made than the others, the branches tied tighter together, for it was to transport the injured, not the dead.

Soon, Galion watched as two elves brought it over, laying it on the ground next to Legolas. Stout branches had been tightly tied together with scraps of fabric and spare bowstrings, with thinner ones woven in between. One of the elves produced a blanket from his pack and spread it over the branches, doubling it up to try and make it as comfortable as possible.

Galion called over the rest of his patrol and they gathered around the stretcher and Legolas' limp form. Kneeling behind Legolas' head, Galion looked up.

"Grab the edges of the cloaks he is under" he said. "We need to be as gentle as possible."

Elves moved to stand around Legolas and knelt down, each grabbing an edge of the cloaks. "On three" said Galion. "One, two, three!"

They lifted together and swiftly laid Legolas down on the stretcher. Galion shifted him slightly, making sure that as little pressure as possible was being put on Legolas' wounds. He took off his own cloak and carefully laid it over the pale form lying on the stretcher. His chest seemed to ache at the sight of Legolas, looking so vulnerable and young, his eyes tightly shut. He gently touched Legolas' forehead; it was icy cold, so he tucked his cloak around the elf as much as he could.

Only a few elves wore cloaks- some of them having simply not worn them in the first place, and some of them having used them already for fabric, or for the stretchers. But the ones that still had them took them off. They laid them reverently over Legolas. Galion smiled up at them.

"_Hannon le_" he said softly. He looked around at them from where he knelt. "I need to leave now" he said. "I need two of you to come with me. The rest of you…" he sighed, bowing his head briefly. "You know what to do. Make sure you are safe. As soon as I get back to the stronghold I will send out another patrol to come and meet you." The surrounding patrol nodded and two elves detached from the group to pick up the stretcher bearing Legolas. Galion rose and positioned himself next to the stretcher, feeling again for a pulse.

"May the grace of the Valar be with you" he said to the patrol.

One of the elves stepped forwards. "And with you" he said softly. "Tell the King that all of our blessings go with the Prince." Unshed tears glittered in his eyes and Galion nodded.

"I will tell him" he promised. The two elves bearing the stretcher turned, and they began their journey back to the stronghold.

_To Be Continued..._

_Mwahaha! Next chapter will come tomorrow._


	4. Chapter 4

In Mirkwood- Chapter 4

_This is going to be slightly shorter, so that I can end it in a good place. Thranduil turns up here, but his full reaction will come tomorrow. Reviewing would make my day :)_

_Disclaimer: see Chapter 1_

The journey back was tough. The two elves bearing the stretcher tried as hard as they could to keep it as still as possible, but the twisted undergrowth of Mirkwood made their job hard. Even when the stretcher caught on a thicket and was jerked, Legolas did not make a sound. Galion was worried. One hand was permanently under Legolas' chin, feeling for a pulse.

Galion looked up at sky. The light was fading fast, the sun dipping below the trees. He sighed and called for a stop amid the tangled branches. "We need torches" he said. "I know it may attract spiders, but we should be far enough north…" He trailed off. Legolas' patrol had been attacked by orcs a few hours south of them. He had no idea whether they would be safe.

Nevertheless, he had to risk it. The more light they had, the faster they could get back to the palace. Galion pulled a small torch from his belt; like the medical packs, every elf carried one. Lighting it quickly, he brought it closer to Legolas. He didn't like what he saw. Legolas' eyes were tightly shut, his face pale. Galion felt his forehead and frowned; he was freezing cold, so Galion tucked the blankets around him more.

He stood up quickly, the torch spluttering. "We need to move quicker" he said. "We have to get the Prince to the healers as soon as possible." The elves nodded and picked the stretcher back up carefully. Guided by the flickering light from Galion's torch, they made their way through the forest.

As they got further and further north the forest became easier to move through, the ground unrestricted of undergrowth and the trees straighter, no longer covered by vines. The elves' feet found a clear path through the forest and followed it, moving swiftly as they neared the palace.

A loud voice hailed them from the trees, followed by lithe shapes dropping to the ground. Galion came to a halt as one of the other captains strode forwards. "Galion!" he said in greeting. "What brings you back? Didn't you find…"

He trailed off as Galion shifted slightly and he saw the two elves behind him, bearing the stretcher. He gasped and strode forwards, kneeling by the stretcher. He stretched out one hand and briefly touched Legolas' brow. "Galion, what happened?"

"Orcs" said Galion grimly. "We need to hurry."

The captain nodded, stepping out of the way. "What of the rest of the patrol?"

Galion paused briefly as the two elves bearing Legolas began to walk again, though their backs were bowed with exhaustion and grief. The captain watched him and Galion shook his head. "They…didn't make it."

"All of them?" The captain's face was white with shock. "Ai Elbereth…"

Galion nodded. He glanced to where the stretcher was being carried through the trees. "I must go" he said. "Will you send a runner to the palace? Alert the healers but leave Thranduil to me. I will tell him. And ask for a patrol to be sent out to follow our path- the rest of my patrol are still at the battle site." Galion sighed. "They will need help."

The captain nodded and Galion turned, beginning to jog to catch up with the stretcher. "May the grace of the Valar be with you!" called out the captain after him.

Galion looked back briefly. "And with you, _mellon-nin_."

0-o-0-o-0

Galion sighed with relief as they came in sight of the palace gates. The three elves picked up their pace, though they were all weary, brought down by the horror and grief from what they had seen. As he had been doing for the journey, Galion had one hand on Legolas' neck, feeling for a pulse. The other hand held his torch high, waving it as a sign to the elves on guard.

Galion didn't know what to think anymore. He desperately hoped that Legolas would live, and that he would be alright. But he knew that even if Legolas survived, he would not be the same. He had watched his entire patrol die around him and had not been able to stop it. That would devastate anyone, thought Galion, but Legolas will take it particularly hard.

That is, if he lives.

And with that sobering thought, Galion reached the palace gates. The guards there had already opened them and torchlight shone from within. Healers stood just inside; the runner had managed to reach the palace.

As soon as they entered the gates shut behind them and then healers surrounded the stretcher. The two elves bearing it were pointed along to the healing wards and they began to head that way. The crowds around the gates gradually dispersed, the guards going back to their posts and the healers surrounding the stretcher.

Galion caught up with the stretcher to speak to the members of his patrol. "Will you…tell the families?" he asked them. "I am going to tell the King."

The elves nodded, their faces sombre. Galion grasped one of their shoulders briefly, before turning and beginning to run down through the palace towards Thranduil's study.

0-o-0-o-0

Thranduil glanced up from his paperwork at the sound of running feet approaching. He frowned, straightening up as he listened. A vague sense of unease crept over him.

The sound got closer and then the door to Thranduil's study was flung open. Thranduil stood up, angry. "Just what do you think you are doing? How dare you…"

He trailed off as he realised who was standing in the doorway. Galion was there, leaning against the doorframe. "Sire…" he gasped, having run the entire length of the palace.

Thranduil frowned. "What are you doing here?" A hint of anger was still in his voice. Galion flinched slightly, and Thranduil stopped to look more closely at him. His captain was weary, his eyes dark and dull. His face was pale and his hair hung loosely around it. Galion moved away from the doorway, now unsure. He didn't know how to tell Thranduil.

As Galion moved into the light, Thranduil froze with horror. His captain's tunic was covered in blood, turning it dark red. Thranduil breathed deeply. Something had happened; something had gone wrong.

"What happened Galion?" Thranduil came around from his desk to stand in front of his captain. "You aren't injured, are you?"

Galion shook his head. "Nay, this is not mine."

"Then who's it is?" asked Thranduil, cutting Galion off. "Did you manage to find Legolas' patrol?"

His breath caught in his throat as Galion flinched slightly at Legolas' name. He stumbled back, his face white. "Legolas…?"

Galion nodded. "Aye" he murmured.

Thranduil staggered and Galion moved forwards, holding onto his arm. "He is alive, Sire" he said softly. "But Thranduil…. I fear for him."

At those words Thranduil seemed to wake himself up and pushed Galion off him. Without a word, and with a frantic look in his eye, he pulled open his door and left the study, beginning to run down the corridor.

Galion cursed as he turned, running after Thranduil as he sprinted to his son.

0-o-0-o-0

Thranduil sprinted down the paths of the palace, his robes flapping behind him. Surprised elves jumped out of the way as their King ran past, and soon the word started spreading, that the King's son was gravely injured, and that he would not last very long. The word of Legolas' death spread fast, and the elves who watched the King run past shook their heads sorrowfully.

Galion ran behind Thranduil, his head spinning. He was weary from grief and what he had seen at the battle site, but he kept his legs moving. He knew full well that Thranduil would not listen to reason right now, and that he would most probably burst into the healing wards and make straight for Legolas' bed. Galion did not want that to happen, for it would upset the healers and could cost Legolas valuable seconds. Besides, if Legolas was already…

Galion shook his head firmly as he ran. No, he would not think like that. Thranduil had now reached the healing wards, which were eerily quiet. Galion sprinted up as Thranduil wrestled with the door to the wards, so he was just behind the King as he burst into the room.

Thranduil skidded to a halt as he finally came through the doors. Healers glanced up from their work as he came in, but he barely noticed them. His gaze fell on the bed they surrounded.

Legolas lay there. His face was white, his hair covered in blood. The bed beneath him was stained red where the healers had opened up the hastily sewn wounds. Lying there on the bed he looked so vulnerable, and Thranduil was reminded of the tiny elfling he had once known.

How had it come to this? Why? He froze as he watched his son lie so still, so very, very still. His son had once been a young elfling, running rings around everyone in the palace, discovering yet more secret passageways. In those days, one had to watch their backs in case of a sudden prank pulled by the young Prince. Now his son was lying nearly dead in the healing wards. So many times he had come back, drenched in blood or wounded, sometimes poisoned. And yet again, as Thranduil saw Legolas, he wondered what in _Arda_ it was all for.

Galion came up behind him, placing a nervous arm on Thranduil's shoulder. "Sire" he said softly. "My lord, we need to leave. We should not stay, we should not disrupt them. The healers will work better if we are out of the room. We can wait outside."

Thranduil didn't seem to have heard Galion as he stared at the scene in front of him. Blood coated the once white sheets, staining them. Healers moved to and fro, the soft sound of needle piercing thread one of the only sounds in the room, apart from his ragged harsh breathing. He could hear his own heart beating and as he again saw Legolas, it tried to beat faster, as if it could maybe beat for his son as well.

But no heart could do that, and no King could make a difference here.

Galion shook Thranduil gently, and the King turned towards his captain. His face was pale and blank, his eyes glazed over in shock. "Galion" he murmured.

"Come, my Lord" Galion said softly. "There is nothing that we can do right now." He gently tugged Thranduil back from the bed where Legolas lay, away from the room. Galion pulled Thranduil across the threshold and then reached forwards for the doors. They shut in Thranduil's face.

_To Be Continued__..._

_*runs and hides* If you kill me, there won't be any chapters published tomorrow! Next up: Thranduil's reaction._


	5. Chapter 5

In Mirkwood- Chapter 5

_Alrighty then! Next chapter in the series- featuring Thranduil's main reaction to it all. Thank you to those who have been reviewing. I try to answer every review, but my computer is giving up the ghost right now and is messing me around (don't worry! I am getting a new one for my birthday tomorrow, so I will still be able to publish).  
_

_To those who have reviewed as guests (Issy and Kayla Greenleaf, I think, I apologise if I have missed you)- thank you so much for your wonderful reviews. I cannot answer them, much as I would like to, because you don't have accounts. But thanks a lot!_

_Disclaimer: see Chapter 1_

Thranduil stood there for a moment, dazed and in shock. Gradually he pulled himself back together and turned to face Galion. He took a deep breath.

Galion tried a smile, but it seemed false, so he stopped and looked calmly at his King. Inside, he was anything but calm, but hundreds of years fighting the shadow in Mirkwood had taught him how to compose himself. He watched Thranduil. He knew the King was having a hard time controlling himself. Thranduil had been fighting the shadow for even longer than himself, and Galion knew how well the King could suppress his emotions, remaining calm in the face of the harshest tests.

Yet this test may prove to be too much for the King, thought Galion. Thranduil had been fighting the shadow for too long. It had first claimed his father at Dagorlad, leaving him a King in the midst of a war. That war had then gone on to claim two thirds of Mirkwood's warriors. When the shadow had returned had been one of the few times Galion had seen Thranduil truly lose his temper. As more and more warriors fell to its dark clutches, Galion watched Thranduil slowly lose hope. Legolas was one of the few people to put a real smile on his King's face anymore.

But now the shadow threatened to take the life of Thranduil's son, and the King was falling apart in front of Galion's eyes. As he watched Thranduil took a deep breath to try and calm himself. It did nothing. He watched as Thranduil's breathing became harsher and faster, his hands clenched by his sides as he fought for control.

With a sudden cry Thranduil turned and kicked out at a wooden bench against the wall. It tipped over as he kicked it and fell onto the floor with a loud bang. Thranduil picked up the log basket next to the bed and threw it across the corridor. The sound of the logs clattering around filled the silence.

Galion watched as Thranduil stopped, his breath coming short and sharp. For a second the King paused, before stooping, picking up a stray log and throwing it as hard as he could across the corridor in frustration. That done, he fell to his knees, a strangled scream tearing from him.

Galion carefully approached the King. "Sire?" he asked softly.

Thranduil looked up at Galion and clambered to his feet. His eyes were narrowed to chips of blue ice. "Was it orcs, Galion?"

"Aye, Sire."

Thranduil's eyes narrowed even more. "Are they dead?"

"Sire?"

"Are they dead?!" roared Thranduil. "Are all of those filthy orcs that dared harm my son dead?!"

"I believe so, my Lord." Galion began to gather up the scattered logs.

"I want them hunted down! I want all of them dead. They need to be found, Galion, and killed."

"The orcs that did this are dead, Sire. We found the corpses. They had all been killed."

Thranduil whirled around, eyes blazing. "It's not enough! I want them all dead! Every single one!" He took a step forwards, his fists clenched at his side. "I want them hunted down. I want them to pay."

Galion nodded. "And they will, Sire" he said calmly. He made no promise, for he knew that Thranduil was not able to think rationally right now, and later on would calm down. For now, he just nodded and agreed. No-one wanted to be on the receiving end of Thranduil's wrath.

Thranduil picked up a stray log and tossed it across the room again, crying out in anger and frustration. "Why, Galion?!" he cried. "In the name of the Valar, why?!" Thranduil sank down on the bench, now turned the right way up.

"Why Legolas?" he asked, his voice cracking. "What has my son ever done to deserve this?"

Galion cautiously sat down next to his King. "There is still hope for him, Sire. He yet lives."

"Hope?" asked Thranduil incredulously. He jumped to his feet. "There is no hope anymore! Nothing to soften the blackness of Mordor. No, Galion, hope forsook us long ago."

"It did not-" began Galion, but Thranduil cut him off.

"No, do not tell me that!" he shouted. "No not say that it is all going to be well. It is not! It is never going to be well again! I am told again and again of this time that is coming, where we will win. For the sake of the Valar, it is all Mithrandir tells me when he visits these halls! How can he be right? How can we win?"

"Thinking that is-"

"Is right!" shouted Thranduil. He gestured angrily at the closed doors beside them. "Legolas, _my son_, is lying in there. Again. He has come home injured many more times than I would like to remember. How can you tell me we will triumph, how can you tell me we will win, when my son might die?"

Galion stood up as Thranduil turned away in anger. "Sire…" he said hesitantly, but stopped when he saw the look in his King's eyes. Galion knew the King well, and he knew that soft words would not be heard by him. He sighed, checking first that Thranduil did not have a sword on his person, before speaking.

"Do not abandon your son, Thranduil. Do not do that to him."

Instantly Galion felt Thranduil's piercing gaze on him as the Elvenking stepped forwards, shaking with rage. He checked again that there was no sword.

"How dare you?" shouted Thranduil. "How dare you speak like that to me! I would _never_, in all my life, abandon Legolas. Never!"

Galion stood his ground. "You abandon him by giving into despair, Thranduil. Who will fight for him, if not his father? He needs you, Thranduil. All of the healers combined cannot give him what you can." He sighed. "He needs you if he is going to survive this."

At those words all of the fight seemed to leave Thranduil and he sank down onto the bench, his head now buried in his hands. Galion sat down next to him as he sobbed, his strong shoulders shaking.

"Why, Galion?" whispered Thranduil. "Why has this happened? Have we erred in some way? Have I led you wrong?" He gestured at the closed doors. "Why is my son lying in there?"

Galion sighed. "Thranduil, you know this better than anyone. Life isn't fair. That's just not the way it works. And we can rage about it, and we can…topple benches and throw things across the room, but none of that is going to change the fact that sometimes, bad things happen. We have to pick ourselves up and grit our teeth and carry on the best we can, in the hope of a better day."

"And what if… what if that hope is futile?" asked Thranduil. "What if that so called day never comes, Galion?"

"You never know" said Galion. "The future is not set in stone."

Thranduil sighed deeply. "Ai, I have lived too long in this world" he muttered. "I have seen too much." He glanced at the closed doors again. He had to believe it. He had to believe in something.

0-o-0-o-0

It was nearly morning before the door to the healing ward opened. Thranduil had long given up sitting on the floor, and had been pacing back and forth along the corridor as Galion watched. Both of them had been growing more and more anxious by the hour.

Finally the doors creaked open and a healer appeared in the corridor. Thranduil froze and turned slowly, afraid of seeing the healer's face, afraid of hearing her speak.

Thranduil watched the healer carefully as she turned and shut the door behind her. His heart hammered in his throat, and the questions he had were so jumbled in his mouth, that he could hardly speak. He opened his mouth as the healer turned back to them. "Is…Is he…?"

The healer sighed softly. "Lord Legolas is alive, my King." At those words Thranduil visibly relaxed, some colour coming back to his face. He glanced at the closed doors.

"May I go in?"

The healer nodded and opened the doors. Thranduil took a deep breath and walked in, Galion behind him.

Thranduil had been through a lot. He had fought at Dagorlad, had taken up the Kingship after that fateful first charge. He had been in danger many times and had faced many perils. But none of them now seemed as bad as walking through that door.

The silence was the first thing that hit him. Ai, he hated it when it was silent. On a battlefield there was so much noise it was so easy to drown yourself in it, but when it was silent…

It was always silent after a battle. Always silent when the dead lay there on the ground, when carrion birds hovered over the blood and the carnage. Then it was harder to hide, harder to ignore the pools of blood under your feet, or the staring eyes looking up to the skies, beseeching whoever was listening for peace, for silence.

For the dead, silence is a blessed thing. For the living, those who still remain, it is a nightmare.

Elves moved quietly to and fro in the room. A few congregated around the only used bed in the ward. The floor had been newly washed; it was still wet. The sheets of the bed had also been changed, and were now a pristine white. The used sheets, however, were still piled in a basket. They were stained a crimson red.

Thranduil took a step forwards into the room. Legolas lay in the bed, his eyes tightly shut. His face was deathly pale, almost the same colour as the pillow on which his head lay. He lay under many blankets to keep him warm, but they just seemed to make him even smaller. Thranduil moved forwards.

Silently, he dropped into a chair beside the bed, reaching out with one hand to stroke a loose strand of golden hair away from Legolas' face. He twitched the blankets back briefly to reveal swathes of white bandages covering his son, and then pulled them back up, tucking the blankets around Legolas gently. He looked up as one of the healers approached him.

"Tell me everything" he commanded.

The healer sank down to sit on another chair placed next to the bed. She sighed. "Aye, my Lord, though it may be hard to hear."

Thranduil nodded, absently stroking his son's hair as he watched the healer.

The healer shifted in her chair. "He is grievously wounded, Sire. Lord Legolas has sustained some serious wounds, and he lay in the mud for an entire day before the wounds were treated. Thankfully there is no infection yet, but he has lost a huge amount of blood, and is very weak."

"My Lord." The healer leant forwards, clasping her hands in front of her. "Sire" she said. "He may not make it." Thranduil flinched at the words.

"I have to tell you this, my Lord, though there is an equal chance that he will pull through. He is warming up now, but we cannot tell if that is an improvement or a fever." She sighed. "If it is a fever, then the best we can do is keep him cool and hope that it doesn't rise too high. If it gets too high…" She trailed off for a moment. "If it gets too high, then there will be little chance of his…survival."

Thranduil nodded bleakly. He reached out and gently smoothed back another limp lock of Legolas' hair. "I understand" he murmured. For a moment grief overwhelmed him, but he pushed it back. No, whilst his son still drew breath, whilst Legolas still lived, he would fight for him. He drew himself up and turned to the healer.

"What can I do to help?"

_To Be Continued_

_It looks like there are going to be 4 or so more chapters remaining, and then I will publish the sequel :)_

_Next chapter will be up tomorrow!_


	6. Chapter 6

In Mirkwood- Chapter 6

_Happy Birthday to me! I got an Apple laptop today, so will still be publishing even though this computer is on the verge of giving in! I also got the One Ring and the box set of Game of Thrones (I finished the books last night- ASDFGHJKL!)  
_

_Disclaimer: see Chapter 1_

"How is he, Sire?"

Thranduil glanced up as Galion came through the doors. The mid-morning sunlight was glancing through the window, glinting off the dust notes in the air. It had only been a few hours since they had been allowed back into the healing wards, and Thranduil had not moved from the chair.

"He is getting warmer" murmured Thranduil as Galion approached, sitting on the end of the bed carefully.

"A fever?"

"The healers think it might be." Thranduil gently twitched back the light blanket covering Legolas to reveal white bandages. He sighed. "Apparently the wounds are beginning to look infected, though they aren't sure."

Galion nodded as Thranduil pulled the blanket back up and then turned to him.

"Where did you go?"

"I went to speak to the other captains, Sire. On my way I hear a lot of whispers and rumours circulating, so I took the time to draw up an official report on what happened. This way, everyone will at least know most of the facts."

Thranduil turned in his chair. "What did the report say?"

Galion frowned. "Sire?"

"I know little of what happened, Galion, other than it was an attack on orcs, and obviously…" Thranduil gestured at the bed where his son lay. He reached out and placed a hand on Legolas' forehead and frowned. Almost instantly a healer sitting nearby was at the bed, her slender hand pushing away Thranduil's. The King sighed and turned back to Galion.

"The rest of the patrol is dead, aren't they?" Thranduil's voice was heavy as he watched the healer out of the corner of his eyes.

Galion nodded slowly. "Aye my Lord" he murmured. "All of them were gone by the time we arrived."

Thranduil sighed. "Remind me, after the bodies return, to speak to all the families."

"My Lord?" asked Galion, glancing at the still form of Legolas.

Thranduil ran his hand through his hair; his gaze now focused on the healer as she pulled back bandages and checked wounds. "I am still King, Galion. Others have lost their children, their spouses, or their friends. If I do not speak to them, at least, then they will think me selfish, placing my son above all of theirs." He sighed. "Despite the fact that deep down that is exactly what I do does not matter. I am their King; I must go."

Galion nodded, and just then the healer stood back from the bed. Thranduil looked up at her expectantly.

"There is little change" she said softly. "Though he does seem to be getting warmer. We shall keep giving him as much liquids as possible, and see what the afternoon may bring."

Thranduil nodded gratefully, and the healer moved to the other side of the room, busying herself with herbs. Thranduil looked back at Galion. "The full report, if you would."

Galion nodded. "We first noticed something was wrong mid-afternoon. The trees were silent, so I ordered the patrol to the forest floor and we continued cautiously."

"We were not even south of the elf path when we discovered them." Galion shifted on the end of the bed. "It was absolute carnage, Sire. There must have been over a hundred orc corpses littered in amongst the trees."

"I ordered the patrol to spread out and check for survivors. I personally found Legolas, and worked with a few of my patrol to move him out of the mud and close the wounds. The rest of them piled the orc corpses and moved the bodies of the fallen away from the blood."

"A stretcher was built and I and two others brought Legolas back. The rest of the patrol stayed out there, making rough stretchers to bring back the bodies and to burn the corpses of the orcs. Upon arriving here, I took the liberty to order another patrol out to join mine- they should be back later today or tomorrow."

"Some of the orcs, the ones furthest south, were killed by arrows, but the rest of them had died to knives or swords. I think there were two bands of orcs at the site. It is my guess that Legolas' patrol took on the first band of orcs, not realising a second band was nearby. When the rest of the orcs attacked, the patrol was completely overwhelmed. In those situations, it is impossible to even retreat sometimes."

Galion looked up at Thranduil, who was clenching his fists again. "I hope that I did what was right" he said.

Thranduil sat back. "Aye it was" he murmured. "You probably did better than I would have ever done." He gently brushed back hair from Legolas' still face. Legolas was still pale, though maybe there was a hint of colour in his cheeks. Thranduil didn't know whether that was good- it could easily be from an incoming fever.

Galion stood up. "Would you like me to stay, Sire? Only I need to redistribute the patrols now, and fill in paperwork. I will need to do Legolas' duties as well."

Thranduil nodded absentmindedly. "You are dismissed" he muttered. Galion bowed and turned to leave. Thranduil looked up. "Galion?" he called.

"Aye, my Lord?"

"_Hannon le_."

0-o-0-o-0

"It is what we feared, isn't it?"

"I'm afraid so, my Lord."

"No doubt about it?"

"No, my Lord."

Thranduil sighed deeply, shifting closer to the bed. "What can we do?"

The healer passed over a deep bowl and a few cloths. "Try to keep him as cool as possible, Sire. We cannot let this fever rise too much."

Thranduil nodded. Taking the bowl, he wetted the cloth and began to wipe the beads of sweat away from Legolas' forehead. Legolas was lying on his back now, only one thin sheet covering him. As Thranduil gently placed the cloth on his forehead he moaned faintly, twisting his head in delirium. Thranduil wiped the cloth over his forehead, murmuring softly, and Legolas stilled.

"Anything else?" he asked the healer, who was moving to the other end of the room.

The healer looked around. She sighed. "Pray."

Thranduil looked back at Legolas, and dipped the cloth in the cool water again. Placing it on his forehead, he took another and began to spread the cool water over Legolas' face and neck.

It was dark now. Through the window Thranduil could see the stars, faint pinpricks in the inky blackness of the sky. He sighed.

"Ai Elbereth" he murmured. "Why did this have to happen?"

He got no answer from the Valar. He never expected any. The night of the first charge at Dagorlad, when he had returned to the tents, had been the last time he had called out to them. That night Gil-Galad had found him on the battlefield bringing in the wounded and the dead, and had asked him to come with him. Thranduil had not noticed how gentle he was when speaking to him. He had never really assumed anything until Gil-Galad had led him to his father's tent and taken him inside.

Thranduil still remembered every single detail he had seen upon entering- the brightly burning torches in brackets, the maps and pieces of parchment scattered across the floor. The stretcher in the middle of the tent, his father's lifeless body resting there. Gil-Galad had solemnly handed him Oropher's crown, and that had been when Thranduil had given in and wept, falling to the floor next to his father's body. Gil-Galad had simply looked on with tears in his eyes; even though he had not really liked Oropher much, Thranduil had lived in Lindon, and he had known the Prince well. Elrond had come in soon after, giving Thranduil what comfort he could offer. Thranduil had cried into Elrond's shoulder for longer than he cared to remember.

That night, sitting in his father's tent with Elrond, the crown of Eryn Galen in his lap, Thranduil had questioned, raged and even pleaded to the Valar, begging them for one more moment with his father, one more day when he would not have to be King in that bitter war. It had been to no avail. The stars had remained clouded and the Valar had not answered.

Thranduil did not blame the Valar for this. After all, he was only one Elf. They would not answer him. Yet that night had been the last time he had asked. After that night he had taken up the crown of Eryn Galen and led his army into the battle. He never forgot the Valar, of course, but never again did Thranduil plead to them like he had on that night. It was up to him to cope.

Yet tonight he was scared, very scared of what might happen. And when there was no-one else to turn to, even those that would not answer were better than nothing.

Thranduil looked at the stars again. "_Saes_, Elbereth" he murmured. "Just let him live. Let my son survive. He is not meant to die, not now. Not here. Please, don't take him away from me. Namo, don't let him enter your halls. It is not his time. He can do so much more for this world."

Thranduil buried his head in his hands as hot tears trickled down his cheeks. "_Saes_" he murmured. "I'm begging you." He chuckled mirthlessly. "Hear that? I haven't begged you for so long. Just listen to me. _Saes_, just this once. It was too late that night, too late for anything to happen. But my son still has a chance!"

Thranduil clenched his teeth. "I will not let my son fall to the shadow! I cannot let that happen. _Saes_, just this once, listen to me. _Saes_…"

0-o-0-o-0

Thranduil looked up as the door swung open.

"How is he, Sire?"

Galion greeted him like he had for the day with that question. And, as usual, Thranduil sighed upon hearing it. His answer never varied much either.

"About the same. I cannot tell."

Galion nodded, yet instead of coming into the room he lingered by the doorway. Thranduil frowned. "What is it?"

"The elves have just come back from the battle site, Sire" said Galion softly. "Bearing the bodies of the fallen."

Thranduil sat up straighter immediately. "I want you to bring all the elves that you took, that first saw the…site, to me. Straight away."

"But Sire-"

Thranduil waved his hand. "I know they are weary, Galion, yet I wish to speak to them. It will not take long, and then they can rest."

"Actually, Sire, I wasn't going to say that" said Galion. "I was just wondering whether it would be wise to bring them into this room, with…" He trailed off, indicating the still figure of Legolas lying on the bed.

Thranduil sighed, glancing at Legolas. "I will meet them outside this room, then. It will not be long."

Galion bowed. "As you wish, my Lord" he said as he left the room.

It was not long before he returned and knocked on the door. Thranduil, who had been slumped in the chair next to Legolas, stood up. He gently kissed Legolas' brow. "I will be back soon" he murmured. Legolas, beads of sweat covering his face, made no response. He had hardly moved, only sipping the smallest drops of water at a time.

Galion opened the door as Thranduil turned away from the bed. "They are here, my Lord" he said softly.

Thranduil nodded and made his way out of the room, Galion pulling the door to behind him.

Twenty elves stood to attention in front of him. Though they had tried valiantly to neaten themselves up, Thranduil could see their clothes were muddy from kneeling on the ground. Patches of dark blood stood out against green cloth. For some of them, their soft boots were coated in mud and something else, a black ash that clung to them. These were the elves that had burnt the orcs. Yet all of the elves carried in their faces the horror and grief of what they had seen; their faces were pale, nearly white. Tracks had been made through the dirt on their cheeks, where tears had long since dried.

All this Thranduil took in in an instant. He pulled himself up. "At ease" he commanded.

Instantly the elves in front of him sagged, a few leaning on their neighbour. Thranduil watched them.

"I know you are weary" he said softly. "And soon you will be able to rest. Yet first I wanted to speak to all of you."

He looked at each of them in turn as he spoke. "I wanted to thank you all for what you have done. It is no easy matter to see what you have seen, to cope with what has been thrust upon you. What is more, you returned my son to me, and for that I am grateful."

"I know it is hard." At these words, a few of the elves dropped their gaze to the floor. Thranduil continued. "I know all too well how difficult it is to cope with what has happened. Fifteen elves have been lost. Another life still hangs in the balance. At times like this, it takes enormous effort simply to carry on."

"But carry on we must. Yes, the darkness is spreading, is deepening. But, and forgive me for sounding clichéd, we must not fail those who gave their lives for us. I know what questions are in your minds, but we cannot let them stop us from fighting. We have to carry on."

Thranduil blinked as a sudden tear grew in his eye, and looked at the assembled elves. "Again, I am deeply grateful to you. Please, go and rest. You are dismissed."

Galion nodded and the elves turned to go. Yet one of them lingered slightly and the rest of the group, seeing him stay, turned to watch.

The elf bowed low. "Forgive me, Sire, but I-well, we all wanted to know…"

Thranduil nodded. "Continue."

"How fares Prince Legolas, my Lord?"

The question was quiet and soft, and yet Thranduil felt a sudden pricking at his heart when asked, seeing again how beloved Legolas was by his people. He smiled a small smile. "He is alive" he said softly. "But I will not lie, he is gravely wounded. The next day or so will be very important."

The elf bowed again. "Thank you, my Lord" he said. "If there is anything we can do…"

"I will let you know" assured Thranduil. The elves turned and left, their weary feet scuffing the floor. Thranduil turned to Galion.

"I would tell you all the same things, Galion, but I suspect you already know."

Galion smiled. "It was inspiring nevertheless, Sire."

"Be careful Galion" warned Thranduil. "Cheap flattery does not get you anywhere." He chuckled slightly. Maybe there was still hope, but hope in what, he did not know.

_To Be Continued_

_There, it's not a cliffie, is it? Next chapter up tomorrow!_


	7. Chapter 7

In Mirkwood- Chapter 7

_This is actually coming up to the end of what I have written- there is one more chapter. It may seem like there is too much stuff for me to cover in two chapters, but I will explain all tomorrow, when I publish the final chapter. I don't want to disappoint any readers, but I also don't want to write something that isn't my best (will make sense tomorrow)  
_

_Disclaimer: see Chapter 1_

Thranduil spent a few hours sitting beside Legolas' bed, sometimes talking to Galion and sometimes silent, gazing at his son with a mixture of love and worry. Eventually, seeing it was late afternoon, he stood up, tenderly kissing Legolas' brow as goodbye.

Galion smiled at him as he turned to leave. "I will stay with him, my Lord" he said.

"_Hannon le_" said Thranduil, smiling slightly. "If anything changes at all, make sure to fetch me."

"I will" promised Galion. Thranduil opened the door and left the room.

0-o-0-o-0

"I am so sorry."

Thranduil inwardly cringed even as he heard those words leave his mouth. He had been saying them over and over, to mothers and fathers, brothers, sisters and spouses. At one door a young elfling had burst into tears at the very sight of him.

At this door stood a young _elleth_, her dark brown hair hung loosely around her face. Her eyes were red, and as Thranduil watched, a lonely tear rolled down her cheek. This was the wife of Legolas' lieutenant, and his last door. He sighed.

"Legolas often spoke highly of your husband, my lady" he said softly. "My son often said how brave and loyal he was. I knew him as well- he was a fine warrior."

There was a pause as Thranduil struggled to find the right words. "My lady…I know the grief that you feel right now, and I know how right now, there is little I can say to soften it. All that I ask is that if you need anything, anything at all, you come to me, and I will help." He paused again.

"My captain Galion told me he was found in the very midst of the orcs, close to where my son lay. He had fought to his very last. Be strong, my lady, for him. I cannot tell you the grief will ever go away, but in time it will fade, and maybe the world will seem a little bit brighter."

Thranduil stopped. He had run out of words. He bowed low, and made to turn to leave, when she spoke.

"How fares your son, my Lord?"

Her voice was soft and cracked, yet there was a concern in it that Thranduil had not been expecting. Why should she, who had lost her beloved, care about the fate of his son? If anything, thought Thranduil, she should be spiteful against him and his son, for Legolas had survived when her husband hadn't.

It was as if she could read minds, thought Thranduil, as the _elleth_ spoke again.

"Do not misunderstand me my Liege. I feel no spite against the Prince, even if he survived when….he…perished. I know that it is only luck sometimes that makes the blade miss, or the arrow fly untrue. I truly wish to know the Prince's fate, for my husband also spoke highly of him, and I would not wish this grief upon anyone, least of all my King."

Thranduil bowed low. "You honour me, my lady" he said. "And I am most grateful for your words, though I know how hard it must be to say them. My son is gravely wounded, and yet as the days pass hope is kindled anew. He still clings to life."

She nodded, smiling slightly through her tears. "I am thankful for your kind words, my Lord" she murmured.

Thranduil smiled. "Remember, if you need anything do not hesitate to ask." He turned to leave. "May the grace of the Valar always be with you."

She smiled sadly. "And with you and your son, my Liege."

Thranduil turned and began to make his way back through the woods towards the palace. Suddenly the sound of running feet reached his ears. He stopped and turned to see a palace guard sprinting towards him, crying out "My Lord!" Thranduil stepped forwards, worry suddenly flaring up in him.

"What?" he asked sharply. "What is it?"

"My Liege" gasped the guard, dropping to one knee before the King. "Galion…has asked me…"

"What has he sent you for?"

The guard, still trying to catch his breath, looked up. "He says you need to…to go to your son, my Lord."

Thranduil's heart leapt up into his throat. He could hear it beating, pounding away as he struggled to remain calm. He nodded once at the guard. "Thank you. You are dismissed." He then turned and began to run towards the palace.

Thranduil had not spent his days as an elfling to no avail. He probably had the best knowledge of the hidden and secret passageways inside and around his stronghold, apart from Legolas. Within minutes he had found the entrance to such a passageway, hidden in a large cluster of boulders. He knew for a fact it came out only a short distance away from the healing rooms.

He ran down the dark passageway, relying on his memory for guidance. It probably helped that he still used the passageways around the stronghold regularly, if he needed to escape certain advisors. This one in particular was useful; it gave him a way to get from the healing wards to the forest without detection. Whenever Legolas was injured and Thranduil wanted to avoid the commotion of court, the passage was in regular use.

At the end of the passage he paused, waiting for footsteps on the other side of the heavy tapestry to fall away. Finally he pulled back the tapestry and slipped into the corridor, heading swiftly for the healing wards.

Worry was now burning fiercely in his heart. What if something had happened? What if Legolas' fever had risen, or he had succumbed to his injuries? What if…? He could not put that last thought into words, so great was the fear within him.

Reaching the doors of the healing ward he pushed them open, rushing into the room. His face was white as he looked around frantically for his son.

There! Legolas lay still on the bed, his eyes closed. Galion, who had been sitting nearby, stood up and made his way to Thranduil, a small smile gracing his face.

"Calm down, my Lord" he said softly, noticing Thranduil's worry. "It is good news."

"Good-what?" asked Thranduil sharply, tearing his eyes away from the bed. "What has happened?"

Galion grinned. "His fever has broken, and the wounds are beginning to heal. There was a moment when the healers feared for him, which was when I sent for you, yet they managed to bring his fever down and it broke soon after."

Thranduil crossed the room, hardly daring to believe Galion. He gently laid one hand on Legolas' forehead, and that was when relief overwhelmed him and he sunk down into his chair, grinning feebly. He looked up as Galion came over.

"He is going to be alright" Thranduil said shakily. "He is going to be alright."

Galion nodded hesitantly. "Not all wounds are those of the body, my Lord. You must remember that._"_

Thranduil shook his head. "He is going to be fine, Galion" he murmured, his eyes fixed on Legolas. "He is going to be fine."

0-o-0-o-0

Thranduil sighed as he shuffled around yet more papers on the nearby bed. He glanced up at Galion. "Remind me why I am doing this again?"

Galion shrugged. "It was your idea. Apparently your advisors were becoming so irritating you had to get some of this done yourself."

"When I next say that" said Thranduil, gritting his teeth. "You have my permission to tell me what an idiot I am."

"You said that last time, Sire" said Galion ruefully. "Unfortunately, this time you didn't listen. Of course you are not to blame, my Lord; there is rather a lot going on right now and you could not focus your full attention on me."

Thranduil nodded in agreement as he took a quill and signed yet another document. There had been rather a lot going on. Over the past few days, since Legolas' fever had broken, he had been showing more and more signs of waking up. Often he simply shifted slightly, before settling again, but sometimes he would move his lips and his eyelids would flicker. Thranduil had felt a flare of hope surge every time that happened. Each time, though, it had been drenched in disappointment. Legolas had not yet woken up.

Thranduil looked up as the slightest movement came from Legolas' bed. He dropped his quill, the ink splattering across some report. Already a healer was beside Legolas' bed, gently shaking him and asking him to wake up. Thranduil came over. Legolas was twisting his head from side to side, his lips moving ever so slightly. His eyelids were flickering.

"Legolas?" asked Thranduil hesitantly. "_Ion-nin_, come on, open your eyes."

"My Lord?" asked the healer. "My Lord, you must wake."

Thranduil came up on standing and sank down in the chair next to Legolas. He reached out and grabbed one of his son's hands, squeezing it again and again. "Legolas? _Tithen las_, you must wake now. Open your eyes."

The healer and Thranduil continued speaking softly for a few minutes. Just as Thranduil seemed ready to give up yet again, Legolas' eyelids flickered and his lips moved in a whisper.

"_Ada_?"

"Aye, it is me, _ion-nin_" said Thranduil, a smile breaking through on his face. "Can you open your eyes?"

Slowly and with great effort Legolas found his way back to the waking world. With a surge of strength he opened his eyes, and blinked blearily. "_Adar_" he murmured.

He felt a hand squeeze his, and he looked around to see Thranduil sitting beside him, smiling. Legolas frowned, not sure how much he could remember. Why was he here? Why did he hurt so much?

Everything then suddenly rushed back to him and he stiffened, shocked and horrified at the memories. Thranduil's smile vanished. "Legolas? Are you alright?"

Legolas hesitated, and then nodded. The healer on the other side of the bed took over.

"My Lord, how do you feel?"

Legolas considered it for a moment. "Sore" he whispered.

The healer nodded. "I would be amazed if you didn't. You suffered grave wounds, and only just made it. You will be in bed a while longer. I will give you something for the pain."

Legolas nodded again, but his mind and thoughts were clouded. He turned his head, wincing at the pain it caused, to look at his father.

"How long?" he asked in a mutter.

"Four, no five days since the attack" said Thranduil. "You really had me worried this time, _ion-nin_."

Legolas frowned. "I'm sorry."

"Ai Legolas, you have nothing to be sorry for" said Thranduil. "I could have so easily lost you, and I am so thankful that I didn't."

Legolas managed a weak smile, though it felt fake. He did not want to talk much to his father right now, for Thranduil was sure to ask questions that he did not want to answer. He had failed, failed his father, his patrol, his home and himself. He avoided Thranduil's gaze, instead looking at the healer who had approached the bed again.

"There" she said, handing a small cup to Thranduil. She looked down at Legolas. "This will help with the pain, and also help you sleep. You are not anywhere near healthy yet."

Legolas nodded once. Anything to help him sleep, to help him forget what had happened. Thranduil carefully raised his head and he drank the draught down.

Only moments later he felt his mind become foggy, and his eyes glazed over. He fell down into the deep darkness.

Thranduil smiled slightly. "He is going to be alright" he murmured. "He is going to be alright."

_Or is he..._

_To Be Continued_


	8. Chapter 8

In Mirkwood- Chapter 8

_I know this is shorter than usual. This is also the last chapter of In Mirkwood. Before anybody asks why, as it seems like there is so much more to cover, let me explain._

_Firstly, there will be a sequel to this story, called In Imladris, which I shall begin publishing tomorrow. That will focus much more on the emotional side of things- Legolas' point of view and what is going on in his head._

_But the main reason is that I actually wrote about 3 more chapters, after chapter 7. The chapters covered Legolas' recovery and his decline into despair. It included Thranduil as well, trying to help but failing. All in all it was about another 8 pages on Word._

_However, when reading through these pages, they simply didn't work for me. It all sounded forced and not fluent. I wasn't pleased at all with how I'd written it, and rather than publish something that I wasn't happy with, I removed the parts of the story concerning Legolas' recovery. Therefore this last chapter skips ahead, to when he is leaving Mirkwood. Legolas' state of mind is explained, but not in much depth. This is partially because I felt I was repeating what I had written in In Imladris, and if I took those bits out of In Imladris, I wouldn't have much of a fanfic._

_Therefore, this is the last chapter, and is slightly shorter. I didn't want to suspend this fanfic whilst trying to write some chapters that I wasn't comfortable writing, but equally I don't want to let down anyone who has been following this fanfic and reading it. Hopefully I have explained my choices clearly enough._

_If you are after more angst, I shall begin publishing In Imladris tomorrow._

_Disclaimer: see Chapter 1_

But Legolas wasn't alright, thought Thranduil as he sat at his desk, writing a letter. He had woken up, but Thranduil saw day after day the shadows that had crept into his son's eyes.

Legolas barely slept now, and when he did, Thranduil knew he was being plagued by images that he could not get rid of. He ate little, and his wounds, according to the healers, were not healing nearly as well as they should be.

It was like a shadow of Legolas was in the palace, thought Thranduil. The same shape, the same looks and voice as Legolas, but so much less. He had tried talking to Legolas many times now, as had the healers, but each time they were turned away. The last time, Thranduil had lost his temper at Legolas. He hadn't tried talking to him again.

Yet he knew something was terribly wrong. Thranduil could guess at the types of questions Legolas had in his head right now, and he was afraid of the answers his son was giving himself. Truthfully, Thranduil was scared. He was scared of what might happen if he found out what Legolas was asking himself. He was scared of finding out that someone else was beginning to doubt it all. And for that person to be his son, one of the few things left to him…

He looked up as there came a soft knock on his study door. "Come in" he said softly.

The door opened and a figure came through, dropping into the chair opposite Thranduil. Galion frowned as he saw the worried look on his King's face, coupled with the empty wine glass in his hand. "What did you want at this hour, my Lord?"

Thranduil sighed. It was indeed late, and there was little movement around the palace. Yet he was no longer able to sleep. He could see, even if he didn't want to, what was happening. The attack, the death of Legolas' patrol was weighing heavily on his son's mind, he was sure of that. He could guess at some of the thoughts Legolas was thinking, for he too had thought them, all of them, at one time or another. But he did not know how to help.

Galion coughed slightly, and Thranduil looked up. "My apologies" he murmured. "But I need your counsel."

He picked up a piece of paper from the desk. The ink was still wet. "This" he said. "Is a letter to Lord Elrond of Imladris, explaining what has happened and asking for his help." Galion frowned and Thranduil continued. "Legolas is friends with Elladan and Elrohir, if you remember. I am hoping that they, along with the peace that can be found in Imladris, may help Legolas."

"I am going to send Legolas there tomorrow, telling him this letter contains vital information about our defences, and that he must take it, to prevent it falling into wrong hands. Then, hopefully, Elrond will read it and be able to help him. I can only send a small escort with him, for we need all our warriors here." He sighed, slumping in his chair. There was silence.

Thranduil suddenly looked up sharply. "Am I doing the right thing?" he asked Galion. "Is this what I should do?"

Galion paused, unsure of how to answer. "I…I think so, Sire" he said.

Thranduil got up from his chair and began to pace. "I don't know what else to do! I have tried talking to him, but he turns away. Maybe, maybe this could work. But what if he never comes back? This is all that I could think of."

Galion kept quiet as Thranduil paced back and forth. Eventually the King turned and looked at him. "You will organise the escort?"

"Aye my Lord, if you want me to" said Galion. "They shall be ready to leave in the morning."

"Good" said Thranduil. He sighed, and ran his hand through his hair. "Good."

0-o-0-o-0

Legolas walked down the corridors towards the gates leading outside. His bow was in his hand, and his knives were strapped to his back with his quiver. Only the slight stiffness in his step betrayed the still healing wounds.

He sighed, running his hands over his bow as he walked. He had practised a bit with his bow, but though he had kept his knives impeccable, he could not bring himself to use them. The images they conjured were too vivid, too real.

His father had tried to talk to him, but every time he had rebuked him, turned away. His father had always been proud, had always been strong in the face of everything. He could not speak to him, not openly. He could not speak to anyone, really. To confide in someone would be to show weakness, and he could not afford to do that in these times. No, better to hide the numb feeling, and continue as best he could.

His father had said, time and time again, how it was not his fault. And every time Legolas wanted to scream at his father. That wasn't the point! Despite everything that he had done, despite how hard he had fought, he had failed. His people had died around him. He had realised, as he had sat awake in his bed at night, that it didn't matter what he did anymore. Nothing could stop the darkness.

A small part of him still rebelled, and he guessed that was the part that stopped him falling completely. Yet he could not do anything. When everything you believe in is ripped from you, holding your shattered self together is hard enough. There is no chance of regaining what you have lost.

Legolas smiled bitterly as he walked. Thranduil had often asked what was worrying him, and there he had been able to answer truthfully, at least. Nothing was actually worrying him. He had resigned himself to the fact that there was nothing he could do only a few days after waking up. He wasn't _worried_. He was just…

He didn't know what he was. He didn't really know _who_ he was anymore. A bow and two knives, maybe that was all. Sworn to protect a realm that would fail despite everything he could do. So was there point in doing anything?

He didn't know. He didn't know what to think. Above all, he wished that he couldn't think, that he couldn't see the patrol die around him again and again in dreams, that he couldn't keep asking questions he was so afraid to answer.

A shadow detached itself from the pillars next to the gate and Thranduil stepped forwards. He held out a roll of parchment. "The message for Lord Elrond" he said.

Legolas took it. "It shall be delivered" he said softly. "I shall not let it fall into enemy hands. I know it contains vital information."

Thranduil nodded. "Good" he said. "I shall see you when you come back. Take time if you want it in Imladris."

Legolas bowed slightly. "I shall see you soon" he said.

Thranduil watched him walk out of the gate to his horse at the head of the column of riders. For the love of the Valar, come back, he thought as he watched his son leave. For the love of the Valar, come back.

_To Be Continued_

_This is actually the end. Don't be fooled! Sequel will be coming tomorrow (is slightly shorter than this one at 6 chapters)_


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